


Only When I Sleep

by JosivChrisma



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Body Worship, F/F, Femslash, Kissing, POV First Person, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24699028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosivChrisma/pseuds/JosivChrisma
Summary: After Serena visits her at night, June wakes in the morning to find the line between fact and fiction blurred. In all her time imprisoned in Gilead, the vivid memories of Serena are proof that she has finally/possibly lost the remainder of her marbles.
Relationships: June Osborne | Offred/Serena Joy Waterford
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Only When I Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic and its chapters pays homage to a song by The Corrs.
> 
> Happy reading!!

I awake drenched with sweat, prying open sore eyes to a place that could pass for hell on earth. A prison I once escaped for 92 days, now here I lay shackled by the weight of a harsh reality once again—that freedom only exists when I sleep.

The morning sun filters through bland, white drapes, a light penetrating the darkness, granting a smidgen of comfort even when my surroundings offer none. Give me a dingy hotel room over this any day. The ones with the lone painting on the wall, depicting undulating hills, a trickling stream and a charming cottage—a window to an alternate slice of paradise away from the room that surrounds you. The ones with a trio of drug store novels leaning against a dusty-shaded lamp on a rickety bedside table. Above you, a headboard with a tapestry of faded graffiti carved into its surface, while you lay on a mattress with unruly springs prodding your back, questioning the cause of that rusty-coloured stain on the carpet. Where the walls would tell a thousand stories if they could speak. Fuck yes, I’d take that over this false sanctum in a heartbeat.

Lying here clutching the bulge of my pregnant belly. My vacant hand makes a surprising discovery as I reach down, skimming past my underwear, drenched differently, an undeniable dampness clinging to the faint throb between my thighs. A result of my arousal, a product of a night that should make me convulse, but I find myself welcoming the very memory of it. 

I guess this is what happens when Serena pays me an unexpected visit during the night—floating at the doorway like an apparition, dressed in a flowing, white nightgown. An unsettling silence rudely disrupts my moment of peace as spindly fingers governed by a possessive mind, reach around me, grasping soundly at my protruding belly. I feel her breath against my prickling skin, the faint musky scent of her perfume, a subtle power rocking me into submission. My vulnerability cowers in her presence, yet the way her thin body moulds to mine steals any means of protest from me like a thief in the night. A ray of light from a nearby streetlamp shines over Serena, her jutting jaw digging into me as domineering eyes peer over my shoulder. 

‘Forgive me, June,’ she mutters between pillowed lips, as the fabric of my singlet gathers within her clutches. ‘Knowing that you’re carrying this miraculous child, brings me hope, and dare I say, utmost joy.’ 

‘Oh, yeah sure. I’m not freaking out at all,’ I admit warily with a pinch of amusement. I see the frown forming across preened brows. What does she expect me to say? That her sordid behaviour has me pooling in my drawers? ‘Shit—a warning would have sufficed,’ I mumble into the skin of my wrist.

Serena recoils, apologetically, reclaiming her wandering hand from my belly. ‘I’ve clearly over-stepped our boundaries. I should leave,’ she voices sheepishly.

‘Hey,’ I inject, reaching for her fragile wrist. As graceful as I can manage, I turn to face her, a frown still present on delicate features. ‘Since when did boundaries exist between us, Serena?’ I watch the emotions wash over her, like one of those cheesy day time soap operas, where the camera focuses too long on an actor’s expressions. Except I’m not cringing, I’m admiring her from this angle. It reminds me of the many times she’s glared down at me with a raised chin, upturned nose, nostrils flared, blue, unforgiving eyes averted while a set of pearled teeth peek through a tiny hollow formed by a pair of pretty, poisonous lips. Hmm...I fucking thought so. ‘So, would you like to try again, Mrs. Waterford?’ I ask her mockingly. 

Serena hesitates for a second, releases her hand from my grip and uses it as a fine-toothed comb, slowly dragging her long fingers through wavy tresses. Now she makes me feel as if I’m watching a god-damned hair infomercial. Except she doesn’t fake a smile, instead she’s smouldering without a need for false cheerfulness. With that ever-present poise, Serena lays her head down neatly, filling half of my pillow, her long limbs tucked rather tensely, apart from that wandering hand resting idly on the mattress between us. ‘For the record,’ she breathes, embers of burnt tobacco and traces peppermint on her tongue. ‘Unless we’re in the company of others, please refrain from calling me by that horrid surname.’ 

I briefly bite my wicked tongue and nod coherently, somewhat shocked by this moment of treacherous rebellion taking place behind Fred’s back. ‘Ooh, imagine that? Tongues will surely wag if I’m to refer to you as, Mrs, from now on.’ I smirk with ease, lightening the intense mood weighing down the air we breathe.

‘You’re a piece of work. I’ve always known,’ Serena claims, tight-lipped, cocking a perfect brow at me. There’s a tension in her cheeks, fighting against a perverse urge to smile at my dry humour. ‘Although, I do applaud you for keeping me on my toes.’ 

I focus briefly on her index finger tapping monotonous rhythms between our chests; perhaps it is an offset beat to a drumming heart hidden underneath that standard-issue nightgown. Despite Serena’s heartless past, beneath that version of herself, there’s a woman like me, struggling against the restraints of power in a world driven by men. 

‘Just think of it as my method of keeping your mind active, given our current circumstances,’ I tell her, our tired gazes unite along our folded elbows. Who would’ve thunk? Tonight of all nights, Serena Joy willingly invites herself to my dungeon, treats herself to the dull comforts of a squeaky bed, evidently desperate to feel a closeness to the precious life growing inside me.

‘Which brings me to my dying question,’ she says, pondering as she nibbles delicately at her bottom lip. I can barely bring myself to look elsewhere. So I focus somewhere distant, ending up at the outline of Serena’s bare feet brushing against the steel piping at the end of the bed. ‘Would you mind if—if I touched you again?’ She finally asks me, virtuous patience in her velvet voice. 

Silence can also be a virtue. I respond by finding her rested hand, my fingers lightly brushing over tiny branches of embroidered veins across the smooth fabric of her fair skin. The absence of a marriage ring brings on a sly grin, another act of defiance granting me hope, this time I see it in Serena, as much as she sees it in me. ‘Despite the tardiness, I’ll allow it. However, there are conditions,’ I say with a playful lilt in an otherwise firm voice. I hardly know how this unusual encounter will end. Still, it may as well be an adventurous one, seeing as we’re two unlikely woman sharing an unlikely bed in an unlikely dystopian world. 

The probability of it being a memorable night increases when Serena balls her fingers, catching mine forcibly, trapped within her constraints. ‘No surprises there,’ Serena chides, contracting her fist as she spreads her hand once more. ‘Name your price.’ She watches in awe as I fill the white, conical spaces between her fingers with my own, bordering on clandestine intimacy. In a fragment of a second, I notice the flutter of dark lashes, caught in a hesitant dance although the steps consist of a simple open, and a downward close. She makes a poor effort in hiding her shock; maybe she doesn’t realise the darkness isn’t shadowing her expressions in mystery. 

I tilt my head, capturing her darkened eyes with my own, and lean in. ‘You can touch me, as long as I’m in control,’ I whisper childishly, as if I’m up to no good. May as well throw caution to the wind, and let it snag her on the way. I mean, she’s the one that hurled it in my direction in the first place. ‘Will you agree to these fair terms?’

‘Brazenly, if you make hast. Otherwise I’ll be forced to help myself,’ Serena quips, the edge of her lip curls like a snail’s shell, she does it slowly yet effectively, just enough to chip the wall of ice separating us. 

That ice wall shatters into a million pieces once I guide her hand steadily to my bulbous tummy. ‘Be careful what you wish for, Serena,’ I warn her gently, devoid of any malice. She hums when I peel my singlet back, revealing a map of faint, silver stretch marks. Appreciatively, she moves closer, tracing my straining skin with agile fingertips. 

‘You look blessed, June. A gift from above,’ Serena murmurs, while I could piss myself. Out of all the descriptions in the world, she chooses the most holy. How fucking typically, predictable of her. 

‘We both know I’m far from heaven-sent.’ My hand cups the base of my stomach, giving her the freedom to touch where she pleases. I could get used to this, then again, this glorious bump will flatten out momentarily and once I give birth to my baby—sh—shit! That’s pleasant. She flattens a warm palm against my exposed skin, and instinctively I lean into her touch as if it’s my place of solace.

‘Would you prefer a hell-bent woman, regurgitated from below?’ Serena jests shamelessly. It’s but music to my reddened ears, like an unheard limerick that has resurfaced over the sands of time. Especially when she joins me in the throws of glee, like a pair of schoolgirls, heads huddled, relishing in shared moments of snickering laughter. 

‘Real classy. I’ll admit though, it has a better ring to it,’ I say as my mouth stretches wider than intended. It’s genuine, unforced, also strange. ‘Come to think of it, sounds like someone I know,’ I tell her slyly. I find myself admiring this side of Serena—unbridled wit fuelled by a beautiful, acute mind, and that mouth, vicious as it is eloquent.

Serena hums again, a sweet vibration travels the length of her slender neck, as I claim her busy hand once more. ‘Have it your way heathen. I rescind my adulations,’ she rebukes, as the apple of one cheek rises to dangerous heights. Her eyes are glued to my mouth, as if she’s eager to hear my next snide comeback. Our banter has become a volley of carefully curated verbal artistry.

‘Aww—come on, let’s be civil here,’ I respond jokingly. Her palm never leaves, as she pivots, long fingers pointing downwards. Our fingertips meet, fumbling over the tiny rises and falls, like ripples fading over my skin. This time she fills the dagger-like spaces there, resembling the jaws of an animal, clamping shut over helpless prey, it being the small pit of my bellybutton.

‘I would hardly call this civil, June,’ she whispers, barely flinching as my fingers make their departure, ghosting gentle lines under the sleeve of her gown, from the kink of her wrist to the knob of an elbow. My thumb finds her pulse point, nestled inside a heated crook. 

‘Then, what is this? A ploy to seduce me while my raging hormones render me defenceless?’ I ask her. The subtle scoff she exerts takes me pleasantly by surprise. 

‘I believe your answer lies within the one who’s supposedly in control,’ she murmurs nonchalantly, drawing lazy circles into my side, raising goosebumps unwillingly, a result of fear or anticipation, or perhaps both. 

‘Wise-ass,’ I call her, tugging gently at her arm, hoping she’ll take the bait dangling precariously above her upturned mouth. My mind ticks over the seemingly obvious, that maybe she’s been the bait this whole time. The way she tucks her bottom lip behind a pearly row of teeth makes me hope no longer. ‘All I know is that...I may have slightly...’ My voice catches within my tight throat before I seize the moment and find momentum again, trailing nervous fingers up her sternum, settling close to a once-heartless chest. ‘Fucking missed you.’ I find the words along with those indigo eyes, fingers ruining the ironed cotton of her nightgown, scrunching until my knuckles matched its hue. Slowly, but surely I lean in and fill the space between us once more. I mean, I am in control after all. 

I used to picture Gilead as an ocean, unpredictable in nature, while I navigated through it on a weathered, wooden boat. Now and then I’d encounter an imposing storm or face the wrath of predators, but one way or the other, I managed to stay afloat. See, Serena was once a looming iceberg, another hindrance to my existence here. Her eyes were once icy, cold shards, like heat-seeking missiles impaling me, a vulnerable target. But now, pressed against us, her burning beacons of hope, she was melting carelessly. 

The kiss was a soft but searching collision, reaching further into darkness, giving light to the unseen. Serena, a malleable sculpture, once hardened and unmoving. I see her as this canvas, untouched and pure. Our tongues create meaningful brush strokes, both prominent and lasting. Every turn of the tide, the push and pull, mouth responding with fervour, her tongue more fluid than before—moving with purpose against mine. 

I can barely distinguish between realism and the fabrication of a vivid dream. All I know, is that Serena’s smoky, peppermint kisses still linger on my lips, my pillow is stained with her signature musk, leaving a searing memory long after our illicit affair in the night.

I remember her hand, splayed against my waist, creeping higher underneath my singlet, like silk sailing across the expanse of my skin. I remember my fingers, sprinkling against a refined jaw, climbing the contour of a marbled cheek as her tongue poured smelted gold into my mouth like honey. I remember fondly, capturing my name every time it fell from trembling lips, and me, receiving everything she was willing to give. That uncomfortable silence, filled with blended intakes of breath, gasps, glistening lips and tongues. Once Serena’s self-control dwindles beneath my touch, and a symphonic moan vibrates her throat, she pulls away worryingly. 

‘I will not risk losing you again,’ she admits breathlessly, searching for pockets of air. ‘I hope you know now, that I’m on your side.’ 

‘Once again, your tardiness leaves little to be desired, but I believe you,’ I reassure her, combing my fingers through delicate waves of hair, before she lowers her ear against my stomach. She envelops me this time, with both arms cradling the precious life growing inside me. ‘I mean—if that kiss was anything to go by.’ The shape of her lips change and the kiss she plants lovingly against me is riddled with sincerity. 

‘Think of it as my method of showing sheer respect and an untimely apology. I will fight for both of you, June. You have my word.’

‘Well, it’s about fucking time, Serena.’ She is seeing this world for what it has truly become, a menace to humanity.

I take her parting words with a grain of salt and cling to hope as if it were my last breath. Maybe soon, I’ll toss that grain of salt back into the ocean. For now, that same rigid woman who robbed me of my sanity moments ago, moulds herself comfortably to my bed, cheek against my belly, lulling on the edge of sleep. Her breathing subsides into calm waters of serenity, and the darkness behind our eyelids consumes us whole.

**Author's Note:**

> I will happily go down with this ship, along with everyone else on board who love these two together!
> 
> Thank you for your time :)


End file.
